Read Out of the Box for Free Online Page B

bandoneón. I let out a whoop and drop onto the bed, grinning. The instrument case falls off the bed and lands on the floor. For the first time, I notice something brown peeping out from behind the red inner lining.
    It’s a blank envelope, slightly bigger than letter size, full of papers: a map of Uruguay; a bit of paper with a Victoria address written on it; two old-fashioned airline tickets; and more money than I’ve ever seen at one time. It’s not Canadian money. Most of the bills are American, but some say República Argentina . The American money alone adds up to almost two thousand dollars, and the numbers on the bills from Argentina are all in the thousands.
    I sit back on my bed and stare at the envelope. All my life, I’ve wanted something exciting to happen to me. People in books are always finding secret notes hidden in library books or messages in bottles washed up on the shore, but I only ever find old receipts or bus transfers. The one time I found a bottle at the beach, it turned out to be wine someone was chilling for supper.
    Now, at last, I’ve uncovered a mystery. Why would anyone leave that much money in a bandoneón case?
    I race to explore every cranny of the case and even parts of the instrument itself. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but I find nothing more. I tuck the bandoneón away in the closet, slip the envelope into the drawer of my night table and wander into the kitchen, trying to look aimless or slightly bored, in case Jeanette shows up out of nowhere. I’ll tell her about the envelope eventually, of course, especially if I can’t find out who the money belongs to. All that money could buy tons of bread and sandwich meat for the soup kitchen, and maybe then I’d feel better about keeping the bandoneón itself. Before I tell anyone anything, though, I want to know more about what I’ve found.
    Through the kitchen window, I see Jeanette in the garden, chatting over the back fence to Mr. Ignilioni, the most long-winded guy in the neighborhood.
    I breathe a sigh of relief and dash into the living room. For the first time ever, I use Jeanette’s old encyclopedia instead of just teasing her about it. I look up every place name mentioned, and after about half an hour, I’ve found out that Uruguay is a country in South America, and Argentina is just west of it. Argentina is where tango music started, so I guess it’s not surprising that a tango instrument has some connection to Argentina. The airplane tickets are from Montevideo, Uruguay, to Caracas, Venezuela, and the date on the tickets is 22JUN1976. The names on the tickets are Andrés Moreno and Caterina Rizzi.
    A knock on the front door startles me so much that I almost fall off the couch.
    â€œFeel like going on a field trip?” Sarah asks when I open up. “I want to check out Vic Middle, the school I’ll be going to in September.”
    I laugh. Can I really be so lucky? A bandoneón, a mystery and a friend who likes school enough to check it out in July?
    Sarah gives me a sheepish smile. “I know it’s weird, but I want to scope the place out.”
    â€œLet me tell Jeanette we’re going to school in July,” I say with a grin. “Just a sec.”
    Sarah grins back, and a few minutes later we’re heading across the park and up the hill to Vic Middle.
    â€œHow’s the basement-clearing going?” she asks, kicking a pebble along the sidewalk. “Found any more treasures?”
    Her words are like ice down my spine, but I know it’s only a coincidence that she’s asking, so I play it cool. “I’m still figuring out how to play the first treasure I found,” I say. “I’m hoping Jeanette finds plenty of treasure though, preferably expensive stuff that she can sell for the soup kitchen.”
    We walk along in silence for a few minutes. The farther we get from home, the bigger the houses become. Now